The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [218]
III
Studs and Tommy Doyle leaned against the side of the drug store building, watching the punks. They were in old clothes and football outfits.
“Jesus, I’ll bet they make a fine bunch of players,” sneered Studs, wishing that he were in football togs.
“I’ll bet they’ll play that touch football so they don’t get their hair mussed,” said Tommy.
“If they get up against a good tough team, they’ll be sweet,” said Studs.
“Hello, Studs,” said Phil, who was in football regalia.
“What the hell do you play?” asked Tommy.
“I’m one of the halfbacks,” said Phil.
“Sure, he’s the All-American-Half-Ass,” said Studs. Phil turned to say something to one of his teammates, acting as if he hadn’t heard Studs’ crack.
“OOPH!” Studs exclaimed, seeing Dapper Dan O’Doul in a football outfit.
“Jesus Christ, him too,” said Tommy.
“You know they got their suits from Gorman. He’s running for judge, and they’re Gorman Boosters,” said Studs.
“Well, they sure ought to make him lose the election,” said Tommy.
“Here comes that kike pest,” said Studs.
“Got a nickel or a butt, Studs?” Tommy mimicked.
“You got Father Abraham there down to a ‘t’ that time,” said Studs.
“Hello, boys,” Davey Cohen said with ineffectual cheerfulness.
“Got a cigarette, Tommy?” said Studs. Tommy held out a pack and winked.
“Say, got another there, Tommy?” Davey asked.
Studs winked back. Davey took a cigarette.
“Boys, I saw Helen Shires,” said Davey.
“How is she?” asked Tommy.
“Is she married?” asked Studs.
“I heard she’s a Lesbian,” said Davey, laughing sardonically.
“What the hell’s that?” Studs asked.
“She’s like a fairy only in love with women. I don’t know if that’s true, but that’s what I heard,” said Davey.
“Oh!” said Studs.
He remembered that show he’d seen at Burnham. He was disgusted. His disgust turned to a fierce but silent hatred of Davey. All his old liking and respect for Helen from the old days returned. It couldn’t be true. It wasn’t.
“Tell us the dope about her,” said Studs.
“Well, I just heard it, that’s all, she was living with another girl, and that, well, a guy I know who knows her girl chum, he says he was up to their apartment, and that he saw plenty.”
Davey bummed a cigarette off Studs and told Lesbian stories that he’d heard on the road. He was happy. And he hadn’t been happy much since he’d returned. He had that cough. And the guys weren’t the same. They didn’t accept him as one of the boys. He knew it, and needn’t kid himself. He was a little sick Jew now, a sick tormented Jew. He could see the way they looked at him, talked. And he was down, broke and sick. They weren’t sick, and even the ones who hadn’t any dough were able to raise more than he ever could. All he had was what he bummed. His kid brother had a good job, and once in a while gave him a half buck, but not often. Now, he was telling them stories that interested them, and he felt like it was the same as the old times when he was one of the boys, in with them, a battler who could go with the best of them; and god-damn it, he had been able to go with the best of them—once.
“That’s queer, all right,” said Studs.
“It ain’t natural. They ought to take and shoot girls like that, they ain’t natural, and they’re a disgrace to the human race,” Red Kelly said.
“I’ll bet she must be awfully unhappy if that’s true,” Les said naively.
“That thing is against the natural law,” said Red with unshakable self-conviction.
“Well, of course, I feel they can’t help it. I think maybe they’re born that way, or they are made that way because of something that happens in their life,” Davey said, apologetically.
“B.S.,” Red said.
“I suppose you’d like to kiss a girl like that,” Tommy sneered.
“That’s worse than having a nigger. Think of it, a girl comes from a self-respecting family, with a decent old man and old lady. She had a decent home, a chance for an education, an opportunity